


There but for the grace of mad science, go I...

by AlumbianChronicler



Series: Tales of the Consolidation [1]
Category: The Invisible Man - H. G. Wells
Genre: Alternate Reality, Alternate Universe, Comfort, M/M, Miscommunication, Modern Era, Self-Loathing, griffin is not good at communicating his feelings, knowledge of their fiction, turns out finding out how your story was supposed to end can be a bit traumatic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 16:48:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29210646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlumbianChronicler/pseuds/AlumbianChronicler
Summary: Inspired by a classic lit discord RP group.  Set in modern day, in a canon diverging where Kemp decided to rehabilitate Griffin instead of turning him in.  The reality was merged with several other fictional realities, which led to the characters' exposure to their own literature, and how their stories were "supposed" to end.
Relationships: Griffin | The Invisible Man/Dr. Kemp
Series: Tales of the Consolidation [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2161650
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

The best way to track Griffin's mood was usually the volume at which he slammed the doors. Kemp honestly didn't think the man realized just how loud he sometimes got, but he was glad for the gauge.

He found Griffin outside the back door, the space where his head should be empty except for a lit cigarette.

"I thought you were quitting," Kemp said.

The cigarette turned slightly toward him. "Tomorrow," came the reply.

Kemp sighed. He really wished Griffin would pick up a less harmful way of soothing his frustration. "How is the research going?"

"It's going. I'll be in in a minute."

"Alright," Kemp conceded. "Let me know if you need any help with it." He turned, and was stepping inside when an invisible hand grabbed his arm.

"Arthur… Kemp. Why do you put up with me?"

"Why do I...?" Kemp echoed, surprised by the suddenness of the question. "I don't _put up_ with you, Jack. I like having you around. You make things interesting."

For a moment, Griffin's grip tightened, then he let go and turned away without saying anything else.

Kemp hesitated for a moment, then spoke again. "Don't stay out here too late, ok?" Then he turned and returned inside.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Having learned of their fates in the recorded story, Dr. Kemp has a bit of trouble coming to terms with his part in what could have happened. In an attempt to be supportive, Griffin sticks his foot in his mouth.

Griffin left his phone behind, changing quickly from his house clothes into an invisible outfit. It was faster than wrapping up properly before leaving the house. That meant he couldn’t take anything visible with him, though, so the phone got left behind.

He didn’t know why, exactly, he felt like he should go follow Kemp and make sure he was alright. It wasn’t like Griffin himself didn’t storm out of the house occasionally, and he always returned once his temper had cooled. So why shouldn’t he just let the other man resolve his upset and come back in his own time?

But something pulled at the invisible man, and he jogged down the path in the direction of a lake just outside of town where he knew Kemp often took afternoon walks. It wasn’t long before he spotted the other, and he slowed down to make sure he could approach quietly.

Arthur Kemp was torn by indecisiveness. Should he feel guilty? It wasn’t like Griffin was actually dead. But… if he had turned him in, in that other reality, and it led to Jack’s death, wouldn’t that be his fault? It wasn’t _his_ fault, though. He didn’t do that.

He heard distinctive footsteps behind him. So Griffin had actually followed him? For a moment, he considered not giving away that he had heard the other’s approach, wanting to be alone in his thoughts for awhile. But a moment later he decided that he would rather have Griffin there with him.

“I hear you back there,” he said, not turning around.

The footsteps came up to walk beside him, but Griffin was silent for several moments, trying to decide what words he wanted to say.

“Are you alright?” Griffin finally asked.

“Of course I’m alright,” Kemp replied. “Why wouldn’t I be alright?”

Another several long moments of silence as they walked along the lake-side path.

“Usually I’m the one storming out in a temper,” Griffin finally commented.

“And usually after breaking something,” Kemp replied.

“Yeah, usually.” Griffin looked over at Kemp, though the other couldn’t see his scrutiny. “I’m… surprised you don’t lose your temper with me more often.”

“Do you think that’s why I left the house?”

Griffin thought about that. “No. But… what _is_ bothering you? Is it that I died in that damned book?”

Kemp didn’t reply.

“Because I read it,” Griffin continued. “And I really am a downright _asshole_. I try to kill you, you know. Full on window-breaking, serial-killer rage. I don’t, though... which I am somewhat relieved about.”

“But I kill _you_ ,” Kemp replied.

“No, you don’t. You try to keep idiots in a mob from beating me to death.”

Kemp glanced over at his invisible companion, though like always, he couldn’t see anything of him. Sometimes, in the right light, he could catch the subtle glint of Griffin’s barely-visible retinas, but it was too bright out now.

“Is it any better that I fail to stop them?”

“I don’t care what happened to that other asshole,” Griffin replied. “I’m fine. You’re fine. We… well, I like…” He grumbled under his breath, running a hand through his hair as he tried to sort out his words. “I don’t want something like that to wreck our arrangement.”

“Our arrangement.”

“Yes.”

Kemp shook his head. “Head home without me, Jack. I’ll be back within an hour.”

Feeling like he had said something wrong, Griffin considered for a moment going against Kemp’s wishes and following behind, but the other always seemed able to tell when he was around. He turned, the stones of the path crunching under his heel. “Very well.” A step away, he paused. “Arthur, I’m really not bothered by the book. It’s ok.”

Kemp paused briefly, nodded, then kept walking.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A discussion leads to admissions and resolution.

The house's interior was dimly lit. Kemp had grown used to such low lighting, quite willing to accommodate Griffin's light sensitivity. He considered, as he removed his shoes, simply retreating to his room and not coming out until he had to go to work the next day. But he had already resolved not to leave this cloud hanging over their heads. One way or another, he needed to know how to move forward.

He found Griffin in the library, surrounded by books on crystals and lenses and refraction. Three large quartz-glass lenses sat on the main desk, one of them cracked through the center from when it had been thrown against the wall. Griffin had been much more careful with the other two since.

The invisible man was wearing a robe and gloves, but no goggles or wrappings, leaving his head completely unseen. He didn't look up from the desk as Kemp entered, not hearing him.

Kemp cleared his throat loudly as he approached, and Griffin's shoulders straightened before he turned at the sound.

"Ah, Kemp, you're home," he stated. 

He began to turn back to his work, trying to avoid any conversation, but Kemp headed him off.

"We should talk, Jack." Kemp noted how Griffin's hands clenched at those words, his shoulders tensing as he stiffly remained facing the doctor.

"Talk, then," Griffin stated.

Kemp sighed and got directly to the point. "Griffin, I want to know where we stand. Where _exactly_ we stand."

Griffin stood silent for a long moment. "Why? Do you... want me to move out?" he finally asked, voice tight.

Kemp shook his head. "No, of course not. I want you to stay here, I _like_ having you here. Things are boring and quiet without you. But… I do not know if _you_ enjoy living here. With me."

"Of course I do," Griffin replied, too quickly.

"I'm serious, Jack," Kemp said firmly. "I want to know… honestly how you feel."

Griffin swallowed heavily, reaching a hand up to run through invisible hair. "Arthur…"

"Is this just an _arrangement_ to you, Jack? I need to know."

"I don't…" Griffin's shoulders tightened as he scowled, clenching his hands into fists by his sides. "It's not just… convenience, ok? Even if I had somewhere else to go, I wouldn't want to. But I don't want to be a burden. I _know_ I'm difficult to deal with." 

He picked up the broken lens, gripping it with an intensity threatening to break it further, and waved it in the air. "I'm destructive, I'm haughty, I'm too damn angry at everything, and you just… keep putting up with me. Why?"

Kemp frowned slightly, the question tearing at him. "You've been told those things your whole life, but I don't "put up with you." I _like_ your intensity. I want to see your brilliance shine, and see your anger at the world turned into your passion for discovery. But I… I can not let myself fall for you if you do not care for me."

Griffin lowered the lens, letting his hand hang limply beside him. "You… fall for me? Arthur. You're too damned good for the likes of me. I... do want to stay here. This house… _you_ make me feel safe. I don't want to lose it… you. I don't want to lose you."

Kemp stepped forward and took the lens from Griffin's hand, setting it back on the desk. Then, he reached up and placed his hand along the side of Jack's invisible face. He let just his fingertips rest there until the other relaxed from the reflexive tension at the touch, then cupped his hand along Jack's cheek. "Thank you for telling me that. You splendid, brilliant idiot."


End file.
